


The Obsidian Comedy: Book I

by Ainsinnes



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Adeptus Astartes | Space Marines (Warhammer 40.000), Adeptus Mechanicus (Warhammer 40.000), Age of Apostasy, Allegory, Dante Alighieri References, Gonzo - Freeform, Inferno References (La Divina Commedia | The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri), Inquisition, Mystery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28088490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainsinnes/pseuds/Ainsinnes
Summary: “One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die”Hunter S Thompson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Distant Whispers

We open proceedings now, of this holy Conclave Excelsum, to address a matter of dire and portentous import. Harken therefore, hallowed and esteemed members of this Conclave, to these various documents unearthed during the investigation of our _Subjectum Suspicor_ ; the Forgeworld Purgatoro.

Writing in the year of Our Emperor nine hundred and fifty four of M30, I the most eloquent Remembrancer Willinus Thoth, do commit in perpetuity the history of Purgatoro, a Forge-world of the Great Mechanicum. It is a worthy addition indeed to this magnum opus, the Annales Novum Planetorum In Magna Cruce Hominis. With the fury of the Imaterium now abated, signalling the end of the Age of Strife, salvation arrived as the guiding light of the Astronomican poured into the galaxy and the Emperor of Mankind embarked upon his Great Crusade. I remember fondly as the battlebarges of the mighty Legio Astartes began to arrive in orbit. The handful of Purgatorian survivors must have beheld their majesty with such awe. Naturally this humble Remembrancer was a member of the Imperial Delegation honoured with making planet fall. We were led from the landing pad through ramshackle decorations, prepared by the natives to welcome such angelic emissaries of their Omnissiah. I then boldly embarked into the ruins of the Hive Primus to collect source material requisite in producing this magnificent work. The tech-natives gladly embraced the Imperium and were quickly reunited with their Mechanicum kin.

The Forge-world Purgatoro has since led an unassuming existence within the byzantine infrastructure that feed our glorious Imperial war machine. It churns out sundry items, like flak armour and lasguns by the tonne to supply our brave Imperial Army regiments scattered throughout the Segmentum. The planet itself seemed relatively unremarkable at first glance. It was an unassuming ball of ice and rock, its red ore bearing a passing resemblance to Mars itself. A thick ring of mountains girdled the equator, where long extinct volcanoes were riddled with a vast honeycomb of magma chambers beneath. However through the most exacting and prolific research, alongside countless interviews, I have masterfully unearthed the most thrilling and tragic of stories about the genesis of this nondescript cog. What follows has been passed through the aeons by the native Purgatorians, assiduously edited and checked for veracity by your eloquent guide through this history.

_The ancestors sailed out from Mother Mars into the great void sea, seeking their own fortune and glory amongst the stars. They voyaged into mounting peril, as that empyreal ocean began to roil with terrible violence. Navigating finally to harbour on The World, moderately safe from the rising tempest of the Imaterium, the ancestors began their arcane miracle of reconfiguring gargantuan starships into a mighty and prosperous colony. Over centuries the ancestors grew their dominion across the surface of The World. They began to take of the planet's wealth, building further wonders to house their immeasurable hoard, always guided by the golden machine god. However for The World's bountiful nature, floating becalmed in the raging gales of the Imaterium, we paid an unexpected toll._

At this stage, my decrepit host shuddered and exploded, vomiting forth a shower of cogs. It would have been utterly remiss for an individual of such onerous responsibility (such as myself) to leave the immense data scroll still attached to this tech-mummy. Although heavily damaged and written in esoteric script, beyond even my considerable comprehension, I have managed to transcribe all of the extant data here. Although the tech-natives make no mention themselves, we learned scholars must assume that any attempts at communication with Mars became nigh impossible during this period.

_With the fate of our Mother Mars uncertain, we find ourselves adrift, lonely and lost in the void. The insidious rot of listlessness and stagnation slowly festered, as we slid into decline. The Parliament has become increasingly insular and secretive. All others lament their ever mounting neglect. First the surface mines were abandoned, now the forges themselves dwindle and we, too few, to keep them lit._

Rumour had it, whispered by the tech-natives I encountered, that this Parliament had committed to some great and ominous task. One that could set asunder all reasonable comprehension of reality. But such spurious hearsay is not worthy of vindication within these scholarly and correct pages. I can establish with certainty that this wilful abandonment continued until only disparate islands of hive peaks and the Great Aurem Apparatus Fabrica remained. No other names exist for this technological miracle and it is referred to with quaintly religious reverence by my sources. It is only mentioned once, during a native legend of great cataclysm. Situated within the bowels of the mightiest peak on the equatorial range, the Fabrica seemingly contained colossally powerful networks of laborita, libraria and countless interconnected fabrication machines. The power and beauty of its construction would be totally unknowable now, even to our Mechanicum allies.

_When beset with tribulation the ancestors would converse with the Great Fabrica of Purgatoro and it would return unto them whatever was desired. Within its mountain keep, all sacred knowledge was gathered and held. Alas in this bleak hour our Parliament seeks no treaty with god. Nor do they care for its divine instruction. Now they greedily dive beneath the elegant mechanisms of our Great Fabrica, to the stones and statues first laid by the ancestors_ [Author's note: it is totally unclear what the correct translation of this is. I have therefore divined its correct annunciation in the lingua franca of Gothic, from my own immense experience] _. We remaining few of the True Path have entreated with them to return from this folly. But there is no hope and the darkness of futility seeps deeper into our hearts. All at once, a great tumult and violence rent the mountain hold-fast of the golden machine god. All were stilled by a great cloud of glittering ash that billowed from the mountain top. All beheld in terrible fear, the black miasma that now enveloped our god forge. The terrible hissing of a serpent swept the planet for all to hear, the blanket of ash billowed with clouds of corrosive vapour and became as rock. No vestige of artifice we possess can penetrate it and no man can endure its surface. The mountain has finally fallen silent. It is a haunted place. A black cone of death that all fear to tread. We, the tattered dregs of our race, cling to the ragged edge of our World. We can but pray to our dying gods and resign ourselves to a hopeless death._

Thanks to my diligence, this fascinating early history of Purgatoro may serve as lesson to all. Any progress without the Glorious Imperator's guiding hand is folly. Long may this new world be of service to Mankind. _Sal_ _ve Verum Imperium_.

“What an obsequious fop! The hour is far too late for such odious lectures.” snipped a grim impatient voice. A bony white hand extended from the shadows of an ebony lectern to silence this dissent. A second gesture waved the next testifier to the central holoscope and a velvet silence again descended over the conclave.


	2. Dormant Seeds

The following has been compiled and formatted for biological ingestion. Any members with Class-C augmetics and above, now switch to Channel Theta and recite _incato aditum permissio_ for full binary data overlay. These records represent the extant data scrolls and holo-crystals concerning Purgatoro, prior to the Great Schism.

Record: 0656-G-001_890.M30

All survey probes have now returned from their assigned grid-scans. Holo-mapping and atmospheric analysis has been initiated in earnest. The primary habitable zone is comprised of a contiguous ring of igneous mountain peaks. No volcanic activity has currently been registered. All prior habitation of the planet was confined to this zone and extensive occupation of subterranean cavern systems has been noted. Total cartography of the cavern system is currently impossible. It has been extrapolated as composing 70% of the planet's crust and extends a minimum 8.4km below the surface. The highest peaks are between 12km and 18.5km in elevation. Several of the larger peaks have the ruins of precursor class Hive cities and Fabricae. They lead to rocky foothills and scree slopes of between 0.7 and 2km in elevation. Many of the features appear to be human in origin, although millennia of erosion has rendered the analysis inconclusive.

Towards both poles an extensive methane tundra and rolling landscape of glacial valleys cover the remaining surface. Initial geology analyses evidence multiple eras of thawing and refreezing. Large plains of vestigial mineral wealth exist within tundra. However they are likely exhausted and considered prohibitive to exploit. Radar topography concludes large open-cast quarries and mine shafts propagate extensively under the frozen topsoil. Preliminary data indicates most are substantially flooded, further reducing the terrain's industrial viability.

Icecaps primarily composed of methane and water exist at both poles. The northern cap is substantially thicker and larger than the southern. Now stabilised, due to prolonged industrial decline, the northern cap extends consistently to the 50th Parallel. This thickness is significant enough to affect the planet's aspect from the void, as the ice plateaus into a stratospheric mesa. Auspex and servitor failure consistently increases toward the poles themselves, rendering further analysis prohibitively unreliable. All pertinent data falls without the acceptable tolerance range. Recommendations to dispatch specialist Explorator teams have been conferred to the Archmagos Intendant.

A single notable anomaly exists on the planet. Within the equatorial mountains lies Negra Mons. Only preliminary data exists, due to a high turnover of Explorator teams. Initial reports indicate its geometry cannot be naturally formed and it was 'created' [inference tolerance 0.05] after the formation of the mountain range. Its surface material is unclassified and defies all attempts at penetration. Elemental analysis has been dispatched to Holy Mars for confirmation. The mountain has a deleterious effect on organics and the area has been designated _Locus Prohibito_ , pending further decision from Holy Mars.

Record: 0694-G-029_915.M30

The overall condition of existing assets is poor. 80% of existing construction has degraded to Class-Delta Ruin status. There are 50 Forges, with associated infrastructure, built into various mountain peaks. All are of unrecognised pattern and are highly advanced in design. They are equidistant and circumvent the equator. Typical structural and systematic integrity is 24.5%. They are connected by an archaic grav-rail infrastructure that nonetheless displays compatibility with contemporary systems. It is mostly intact, but requires major refurbishment.

5 of the surveyed Forges have indicated the presence of Machine Spirits, hibernating within the operational heart of each. Despite extensive damage to their superstructure, the Holy Spirits within are remarkably intact. The assessment, concluded by the supervising Archmagos, was one of incredible age and immeasurable power, with a 60.2% comparability to a Holy Spirit of the Collegia. No rites of awakening were attempted during the survey and it was stressed that the Machine Spirits of these 5 Forges are almost completely dormant.

Supporting the Forges are 10 Power generators, none functioning. The cause was determined as fuel depletion. Both their pattern and fuel source is unknown. Output, when modelled on the MkXVIII Planetary Plasma Reactor, is estimated at 24.703 petawatts [inference tolerance 0.5]. Urgent investigation is required.

There are 6 main Hive complexes, with integrity ranges from 36.7% to 62.9%. Due the minimal function of their environmental systems and highly decayed superstructure, the Hives have been designated Ruin Class-Delta. Therefore the Hive structures should be considered inviable for refurbishment. It is recommended that all assets are demolished, with any raw material recycled as an Imperial Tithe Contribution. The Hives should be rebuilt on the foundations, following an archeotech survey of any disturbed areas.

Numerous silos contain military grade ceramite, refined adamantium & other unidentified materials. They have an expected lifespan of 300 Annual Tithes before exhaustion. Silos containing other miscellaneous raw materials have an expected lifespan of 500 years.

At this point the owner of that grim voice actually yawned extravagantly. He theatrically feigned surprise at the collection of hard stares penetrating through the gloomy octagonal chamber and regally waved the proceedings onwards. This was against protocol. The Tech Priest, sat across from this upstart, despised lapses in protocol. He gestured the servitor, arduously bearing his carved lectern, forward from its alcove into the harsh glare of the holoscope, “I posit a query. Do you fail to comprehend the meaning, or the subject matter itself?”

“I fail to see the relevance.”

The Priest's optical array reset with a flickering click. He could almost perceive his cogitor banks straining to return the situation to a rational flow of information, according the predetermined format. Within seconds a response formulated. It had been crafted to negate the logic of the interrupter totally, “That is invalid. Your presence here equates to your acceptance of the subpoena's conditions, under strictest penalty. Therefore you have accepted that everything presented to this Conclave offers vital recourse to our combined objective. 'Knowledge is Sacred' because the Omnissiah wills it. Or have you forgotten that?”

The man opposite leant back into the shadow, “Very well. I believe you were about to thrill us. Something about the various lengths of wire you've used.”

The Tech Priest hesitated. This was clearly a deliberate mockery of his logical queries. Whilst waving at a servitor to continue reading out the testimony, he calculated the motive. His opponent's focus was not the content of the report, but the Priest himself; the organic was testing his responses. As the servitor monotonously intoned its data scroll, the Priest mused on the pathetic futility of such an attempt. Still there was something unsettling about the man, that made his skin crawl. A biological metaphor? The Tech Priest shuddered inwardly.


	3. Brave New World

Record: 0025-A-020_916.M30

Motion to Synod: The proposal for mediation between, and research into, the latent Machine Spirits of existing planetary assets.

Proponents state that the discovery of 5 intact Machine Spirits invokes the Mechanicum's sacred duty to collect all knowledge. Furthermore they argue the irresponsibility of simply ignoring such potential treasure. They conclude that Mechanicum research into existing archeotech should take equal priority to Imperial needs.

Counterarguments highlight that awakening such unquantifiable entities and conducting the research proposed, jeopardises the new and old Forgeworld as a whole. Deference to such powerful Spirits must be absolute. The opposition also propose seeking guidance from Mars, partially conceding to the potential value of the Holy Knowledge in question.

The Motion is denied by majority vote and a Lex protocol ( _Lex Sacrosanctus_ ) is henceforth enacted, ring-fencing the aforementioned Forges. The Motion is reworded and refiled, to accommodate the new protocol. The resultant proposal to stabilise and integrate all remaining Forges into contemporary systems is debated. A petition to the Archmagos Intendant, sanctioning research into the more valuable archeotech, is drafted. The second Motion passes unanimously. The corresponding Lex protocol ( _Lex Renovare_ ) governs the refurbishment of existing Forge infrastructure.

The dicta-servitor juddered alarmingly. A single tear ran down its patinated steel mask and a smoking power-cell melted into the wretched thing's chest. Fire suppression systems deployed too late and reams of data scroll flashed into gossamer flakes of ash, that wafted over the smouldering heap. What remained was a slowly bubbling amoeba of flesh, metal and foam, already being scraped off the flagstones by a maintenance crew. As the servitors lumbered away and silence returned, the Conclave looked on dispassionately. All that lingered was an intense stench of burning dust, with the metallic aftertaste of human death.

The bony white hand swept into that morbid incense to break the spell. He gestured towards the Tech Priest to address the unexpected and embarrassing shortfall. The Priest rolled into the centre again to address his peers. “All data from Pre-Schism archives is temperamental at best. I fear, my lords, an acceptable facsimile cannot be presented within the time parameters.”

The grim man released a sardonic chuckle. Pausing to shoot him a look, the Tech Priest continued, “In lieu of the full records, I shall deliver the executive summary saved in my personal memo-repository. There appeared to be a delay in receiving an answer to the Synod's research petition. There were several points of note during the interim period.”

Purgatoro burgeoned into a thriving Factorum Class Forgeworld relatively quickly, exploiting the foundations left by the planet's original colonists. It was established faster than average, firstly due to the immediate availability of high quality raw materials. Apparently the Imperium allowed some of the silos, earmarked for Tithe, to assist in expediting the construction of new Forges. The utility of such a boon was compounded by the existing grav-rail lines. They were incredibly well preserved and, once adapted to the Mechanicum's current pattern of haulers, they facilitated highly efficient transfers of resources and labour around the equator. Once all 70 Forges were lit, the rails formed a vital circulatory system for the Forgeworld's operation. The rapid transit system was also expanded to feed an embryonic spaceport, emerging in geostationary orbit above the mountains.

Secondly the original Forges formed the basis for new technology introduced by the Mechanicum. Upon further investigation they had discovered that much within each Forge was basically compatible with current technology, albeit with several key modifications. This robust armature allowed the Forges to be adapted and rebuilt to a greater size. A frenetic process of building over many of the revived Forges also began, giving rise to sprawling assembly floors and fabrication clusters. Capitalising on the immensely powerful transport network, the Mechanicum soon buried the Forges under miles of plasteel and ferrocrete structures.

Finally a communique for the Synod-Locum of Purgatoro at last arrived from Holy Mars. The long awaited elemental composition of Negra Mons prompted a special parliament of the Synod, with a record attendance. The result was uproarious. Upon the data sheet was written a single sentence, ' _elementum incognito, designatus novum: Obsidium_ '. Magos on Purgatoro clamoured for the honour of conducting the first examination of this new material and it drew marked interest from the wider Segmentum. This new fame seem to finally direct the Archmagos Intendant's attention to the otherwise backwater part of his jurisdiction.

The grim man raised an eyebrow, “Obsidium?”

“Yes, Obsidium. You understand why we have obfuscated its existence in recent times. Should that knowledge fall into the wrong hands...” The Tech Priest trailed off gravely. They all knew the portentous consequences. Consequences that had drawn them together in such secrecy. Consequences that could, should 'his' agents discover the Conclave's mission, irreparably shatter the Imperium. The oblivious arrival of a replacement servitor allowed the Tech Priest to retreat back into his alcove and muse as the proceedings continued.

Record: 0025-A-067_950.M30

Memo Via Officio Archmagos Intendant

In response to Petitio Investigato-0025-A-020, we hereby give sanction to conduct research into the five Forges so named: Crius, Hyperion, Metis, Phoebe and Thea. A dedicated committee of Magos and Adepts shall be formed. They exclusively will have access to these Forges, prejudicing all others. In addition to specialist Magos, now en-route to the Forgeworld Purgatoro, the committee will be elected from those most worthy in the Synod-Locum. Henceforth shall be initiated the Divisio Investigatus Purgatoro. In addition to all other holy protocols of the Great Mechanicum of Mars, the additional operating rules are to be strictly obeyed:

  * Members of the Divisio are only permitted to research the Forges. They are not sanctioned to investigate any other areas of the planet and must forgo any personal projects. Their position on the Synod-Locum is unaffected.

  * The Divisio must not alter the existing condition of the Forges. Destructive sampling must be approved prior to conducting the test. Ultimate decision will be unilaterally conferred from Holy Mars and the sample will be taken by a qualified Martian Archmagos.

  * In addition to specific requests, peer reviews are to be held periodically to assess the veracity and viability of the research conducted by the Divisio. They are to be scheduled at the discretion of the Officio Archmagos Intendant and no more than 10 Solar years may elapse between reviews.




Finally, it has been recognised that these once great Forges hold immense potential. Consider it an honour to be sanctioned with their acquaintance. Therefore it is decided that any significant findings or artefacts will be relinquished to the Archmagos Intendant, for final assessment and submission to Holy Mars.

“And how long did that last?” the grim voice interjected sardonically. The response was a glitchy mechanical hiss, even worse than at the testimony's mention of an 'estimate'.

The Tech Priest spat static, “You know full well what followed, despite your 'flesh'. It is seared into the conscience of every member of this Conclave, the very animus of it's existence!”

“So far I've had a history sermon and a nap. How is any of this ancient garbage relevant to the task actually at hand?” the grim voice snorted. “I have agreed to represent our interests at this Conclave, but the demands on my time are many and just as pressing.”

The Tech Priest moved to retort, but the bony white hand emerged again to extinguish the argument. The Priest bowed deferentially back into the shadows of his pulpit's alcove and his opponent growled into silence. With three fingers extended, their owner spoke, “Given that each of you are guilty of the other's accusations, the only resolution is to eject both of you from this chamber. As that is impossible, we shall continue with the proceedings. Without interruptions, if that is within your capabilities.”

Although thin and reedy, the quiet authority behind each word commanded rapturous attention. The hand retreated and a third speaker stepped into the light of the holoscope, noticeably uncomfortable in full dress uniform, with the stiff clunk of a bionic leg.


	4. Probable Cause

My lords, I am detached to this High Conclave to brief you about the first twenty years of the 31st Millennium, from intel of our Regimental Archives. I'm not much of a speaker, more a glorified bodyguard to this unhappy bugger. The dicto-servitor will actually deliver the report, as I don't know some of the words.

Throughout those dark years, the Synod-Locum of Purgatoro remained nominally loyal. The aforementioned silos of resources were readily proffered and, as the mayhem escalated, the Forgeworld met our increasing requisition orders for its manufactured goods. However there were also several occasions when battalions were alerted to discrepancies within the planet's conduct. Many of these were never actioned because the regiment was preoccupied, fighting tooth and nail for the galaxy against the hated Traitors.

We were first alerted when the Archmagos Intendant requested a fleet escort to Purgatoro, to issue a subpoena for critical research information. Only a small portion of the full request was available, but mission reports from the few participating Navy cruisers provide a view of the situation. When asked to justify the Imperial Army's involvement, the Archmagos Intendant cited serious and repeated breaches of Mechanicum Lex. The Divisio Investigatus on Purgatoro had been very evasive of previous commands to release the research in question. This brought the whole Synod's loyalty into doubt. They always claimed that warp storm activity had periodically, and conveniently, disabled their communications. These disruptions were occurring for increasingly worrisome amounts of time. Our subsequent investigation did not provide any substantive reports of warp activity in the sector to corroborate their claims.

As paranoia induced by the Heresy reached fever pitch, the Divisio Investigatus was viewed with ever greater suspicion. The Synod-Locum received increasingly sterner admonitions from the Imperium, to focus totally on the war effort. The obtuse dalliances of the Divisio no longer mattered. Eventually the arrival of our Cruiser escort into Purgatoro's orbit and the deployment of Imperial Army assets on the surface brought Purgatoro back into line. There were no reports of actual violence and the Archmagos Intendant's emissary delivered the subpoena successfully. As the battalions were almost immediately recalled to the Fleet and they departed the sector soon after, it seems the threat of action was enough to realign the Purgatorian Magos' priorities. Henceforth all of the warp storms miraculously evaporated and all research activity ostensibly ceased.

The only other record from our Archives is a commendation awarded by Regimental Command to the Forgeworld, for dutifully operating above capacity. It appears the Purgatorians had all but drained their immense silos of material to meet demand, contributing notably to Loyalist victory in the sector. Such an overt display of loyalty could not be ignored and once the Holy Synod of Purgatoro had explicitly declared itself for the Loyalist Fabricator General of Mars, its continued existence was assured. From the perspective of the Astra Militarum, the furtive movements of Purgatoro hardly seem consequential in the grand scheme of things. The current Regiment has little dealing with the Tech-Magos of Purgatoro, but benefits greatly from their exports.

The solider paused for a moment. He seemed to sense the mood of the chamber and hastily added, “Of course that's just our view in the Militarum. I've been told to say that, because officially we've no quarrel with Purgatoro. However we are not blind to suspicion and make no mistake, the Militarum stands with you my Lords.”

The Tech Priest spoke first, “Clarification noted. However there will be no boots on Purgatoro. Your limited involvement in the planet to this point has equated to ignorance of the current situation. It has obviated your offer and consequently you are dismissed.”

The solider stiffened slightly, glancing towards the main pulpit. He was fairly used to abrasiveness from his superiors, but had never really experienced the detached terseness of a Mechanicus Tech Priest in person. Though outwardly maintaining impassive discipline, the response had unnerved him.

“What is your name soldier?” the grim voice cut through the tense atmosphere. The soldier's glance towards the main pulpit grew more urgent.

“I was instructed to not give that sort of information, sir?” he started tentatively. He could feel the hawk eyes of the grim speaker burning through the back of his skull. Although wearing a taught smile when reassuring the solider that it was fine, the stare remained cold and unmoving. Reflexively the solider responded, “I am a Colonel of the 45th Catachans. I have been ordered here and they are the kind of orders you do not refuse. Rest easy 'tin-man', I'd rather be elsewhere too.”

The grim voice continued approvingly, nodding as he spoke, “I want him to stay. I like 'him'.”

“Meaning that you like his men to feed into the execution of your paranoia, do you not? Inquisitor.”

The Tech Priest had crossed a threshold. It was forbidden to reveal another member's identity during Conclave. Although the location was totally hidden, with all communication filtered through an arcane system of pass-codes and cyphers, anybody could be overheard. Anybody could be captured; anybody could be made to talk. This was not the age to be drawing attention to shadowy conspiracies; attentions of those ravaged by psychotic paranoia. Attentions of those possessing insane delusions of grandeur and an ever tightening stranglehold on Mankind.


	5. The Veil Removed

The chamber was aghast at the transgression and scandalised whispers erupted from the other alcoves. Cherubim, familiars and servo-skulls screeched and flew up to the refuge of the clerestory. They leered down from their perches malevolently at the subject of their masters' ire. The Tech Priest was visibly cowed by this condemnation and the rising apoplexy of the now revealed Inquisitor. The Colonel stood between them perplexed. It could not be overstated how far this gruff plebeian was out of his depth, amongst the powerful ghosts of the Conclave. He had no frame of reference for how to behave in such company and was even less comfortable in such a fraught atmosphere. Throne only knew why he'd been ordered to this summons. A clerk from the Administratum could have done the job, adding the benefit of being able to properly read and write. The Emperor, it seemed, was not without a sense of providence.

As unease continued to slosh around his thoughts, the Colonel relished a familiar tingle of nerves jangling up his spine. In that moment his surroundings became irrelevant and he was a Jungle Fighter again. The reawakened predator sensed the source of danger and swept towards the enraged Inquisitor, who was now fluidly drawing and cocking his ornate bolt revolver. The revolver's bead settled on the Tech Priest, whose fear and shame had petrified him. He was only able to raised one pleading metal hand and his mechadendrites franticly writhed and coiled protectively around his body. All three men were now caught in a serene ballet, time dutifully stretching to accommodate the drama of the event. The Inquisitor's finger slid over the custom trigger. He began to squeeze. Time slid back into place with a violent jolt. The Tech Priest sunk to the floor, collapsing off his lectern. Several seconds passed.

The Tech Priest looked up. His mechadendrites scanned over his robes for traces of damage. Confused at finding none, they helped the Priest to his feet. The Colonel was holding the Inquisitor in a restraining technique. One gnarled hand had smothered the revolver's chamber and the hammer smashed into it instead. It had bitten deep into the fleshy skin between thumb and forefinger, preventing the firing pin from depressing. Even as blood began stain his immaculate uniform, the Colonel's eyes remained locked on the Inquisitor.

“Not that kind of party I'm afraid sir,” Said the Colonel quietly in his ear. The whole chamber waited on tenterhooks for the reply. Slowly the Inquisitor relaxed and wiped the blood off his revolver before holstering it. He stepped back as the Colonel warily released him and his whole demeanour seemed to change. His previous rictus mask of rage had evaporated, leaving behind the usual austere calm. Indeed the Inquisitor looked bemused at why the Conclave was not recommencing. Several minutes of total stillness passed, only zephyrs of glinting dust motes from the prior tempest betrayed signs of life.

“That may have been impulsive,” The Inquisitor stated deadpan.

Beneath gilt robes, the bony white hand clenched into a fist. Ropes of vein popped through translucent skin as he fought to dispel rising fury. This was supposed to be a disciplined affair. There was supposed to be a nobility and decency that would separate them from the cancer now eating its way through the Adeptus Terra. There was supposed to be humanity and civilisation. However such concepts stubbornly remained relics of a forgotten epoch, regardless of the loftiest nostalgia. The bile in his gut settled a little as he remembered, something like this had been inevitable.

The phoenix of the Imperium that crawled from the birth embers of the Heresy was ugly indeed. Mankind had awoken to a dire reality and was still haunted by the spectre of that nightmare six thousand years later. Many factions represented at Conclave still bore hideous scars and bitter paranoia. They still toiled to reassemble the pieces and reclaim their place within the lumbering behemoth of the modern Imperium. Resultantly the Conclave's agenda was a jurisdictional minefield. Nobody was present with altruistic intent and the cauldron of ulterior motives had finally boiled over. It seemed impossible to discuss anything openly and collaboratively, without incurring the naked wrath of an ostensible ally. He needed to intervene. When he addressed the abashed Conclave, the Speaker's words rung with unimpeachable potency and cold disappointment.

“I cannot believe that I must intercede. It has never been considered necessary before, especially amongst individuals of your respective statures. Nevertheless heed my words closely little children.” The contemptuous venom dripping off those last words almost seemed to hiss as they hit the air. The bony white hand was joined by its twin in gripping the lectern, and the Speaker heaved himself into the fore.

He continued, “You have been summoned to this Conclave Excelsum because you know the threat posed by Purgatoro. You see the danger our beloved Imperium is in. You must remain to address and contain that threat, for the very survival of our Imperium. We are united in our hatred of he who despoils all Mankind for his own insane ambition. We of this Conclave must not fail. Should the Apostate learn of the Forgeworld, or worse take control of it, Mankind will meet its doom frightened and quivering in the dark.”

His fingers tightened their grip on the wood and the Speaker sighed ruefully. Though most of his body was wreathed in darkness his head could just been seen to tilt sideways, as if conferring with some imaginary friend. The Speaker surveyed the chamber, confirming his audience's full attention. He need not have bothered. Every member had been spellbound since he first hauled his ancient frame up to chastise them. All them were individuals of immense standing within their respective organisations and commanded incredible authority. Yet they all stood in meek silence, like naughty pupils before the strictest of Schola Masters.

With an exhausted tone that masked his simmering anger, the Speaker pushed on with his lecture. “However it would appear that your petulance cannot be suppressed, even under the gravest of circumstances. Even though our enemies are legion, our objectives nigh impossible and our time scarce, you insist upon insignificant squabbling. Honestly I had expected a wider perspective and deeper wisdom from men of your reputations!” The Inquisitor and the Tech Priest hung their heads shamefully. “The subject and actions of this Conclave surmount everything. Your selfish blindness to this has forced my hand.”

The Speaker paused. Clearly whatever the conclusion of his hectoring was, it weighed heavily on him. He finally spoke in a sombre and defeated tone, “If you will not acquiesce on behalf of humanity, then you will bow to the authority of something beyond.”

At this point the shadows around the Speaker grew thinner. The blackness grew dirtier until the whole alcove was dully illuminated. Soon his silhouette bore a shimmering corona, as his decrepit form was backlit against an approaching giant. A giant clad in glowing golden armour.


End file.
